Delightful Disasters
by chazzertin
Summary: Mafiatale AU: A lot can happen in a short time, even more can happen when your simply watching from some over valued sidelines. Its easier to be jealous of the people who aren't involved though. The diva himself could vouch, though he was already underwater in the sea of trouble that the charming sniper brought into his life. Surprising, how imprisoning the fight for freedom can be
1. Chilled nights in the underground -N-

-Neutral-

There was a sob story behind every bullet, each name put further under the earth. Some other ramblings of a mysterious nature even. Though that wouldn't be what one thought when they looked across the bar at the two well suited skeletons. Every night settled upon the bar stools, telling outrageous stories or painful jokes at the least to each other before Grilby; the flame of his figure was usually the only illuminating them in such secluded areas of the bar.. Always accompanied by groaning, the occasional laugh. A puff of cigar smoke trailed from the short, stubbier of the two in a near constant cloud, the taller never smoked, but god could he hold a tall glass of liquor.

Then there was the lovely Mettaton… Built by the fantastical Dr. Alphys at the request of Grilby himself, Mettaton was a shapely robot, though it was his beautiful voice, rather than looks that captivated the drunken audience. Every night without fail, the majestic form would slowly walk upon the small stage, pressed to the corner, yet still in the view of all patrons. Then he would introduce himself, mention how absolutely fabulous it was to see us all there, before breaking out into song. His voice would fill the booze scented air with sounds far too sweet to be in such a rundown bar, and echo off the walls for hours on end. It was as if he never had to stop and catch his breath, though nobody was able to get close enough to ever tell that he didn't. It was all part of the mystery that was his siren like allure.

While the two were in the same room almost every night, listening or at least hearing each other's voices for hours on end, the two had never seen each other, acknowledged each other, let alone speak to each other while in that bar. Though during after hours on a dingy night, the sky flurried with rushing snow, the two met.

Papyrus entered the small building eagerly, the chill of winter temperatures caused him to shudder at the abrupt heat. The cold had overcome his entire being with it's frigid nibbles, the contrasting temperatures almost made him feel chillier for a flash of a moment. "Evening Grilby! I'll take the usual if that's alright?" The same grin he always held was held on his face, it held an irritating and foolish appearance. The heated expression of the burning monster was enough to tell how discontent he was, however he didn't dare turn down the man before him.

"How was tonight?" Grilby held a uncaring gaze as he turned, fingers wrapping tight around a beer glass. It clinked loudly against the wooden counter as the man set it down, a thick, honey colored liquid quickly to the brim. "Same old, I suppose. Pow pow here, bang and smash there, and now I'm sitting before you, ready to indulge in some of the best bar beverages in the underground!" The nonchalant tone Papyrus had caused his fires to ripple as if shuddering. The skeleton before him was well known in the area. Papyrus, the Elite Sniper for the Fallens. An interesting little organization- they were never but had already spread like wildfire in the slums of the Underground.

And it wasn't as though they had come into the community with a more metaphorical bang, they had actually intruded on the area overnight. They had just appeared, and were still considerably small. Papyrus, as mentioned, their sharp shooter, and his older brother, Sans- there was a number of theories about his exact role, most reckoned a less sharp shooter, or something to do with the financial well being of the organization. A woman named Toriel, whom he had seen a number of times, more often than not down the road purchasing foods, a motherly figure if anything. And then, the Boss? They were nothing more than a child. A child who had fallen and now took control over the lives of four people. A small potted flower was always in their arms from what he had heard. A sassy little thing.

"When do you think Sans is able to pay his tab Papyrus?" Shift the conversation- they didn't need to speak about the things that Papyrus had done and could very well do to him as well.

"He said this weekend, but you know my brother.." He did. Sans had never paid directly. His bills had racked up high enough that anyone else in the underground would have taken themselves to the void, but he would always just laugh it off. Every once and a while though the dept, every number and calculation in his tab would just- poof. Gone. He was curious, but being able to wake up to a pretty sum of money in your account was a good motivator to him keeping his lips glued shut. A scoff escaped him, before a silence took over the room, only the static of the old jukebox filled the room.

"Where is your brother tonight?"

"Who really knows, eh Grilster?" He shuddered at the nickname. there was no reason for such a lack of formality. However he left it soon at that. Better curious than waist deep in quicksand.

More silence.

This time a melodious voice broke the silence, the back room doors swinging wide as the curvacious figure strutted into the room. Hair presteen, clothing visibly woven just for him. His eyes rolled back a little at the sight of his entertainer, Mettaton, entering the bar. "If your closed for the night darling, i'll be happily making my way home." How rude, inconsiderate even. They had a guest, and the diva himself wanted to walk out on one of the most important patrons Grilby had! "Actually," He stopped the other with a single word, the other three almost unnecessary.

"There's someone I think you should meet Mettaton, they're a rather big fan."


	2. Quietly the jukebox whispers -P-

-Pacifist-

It wasn't as if Mettaton didn't want to meet an adoring fan, the sudden displeasure that spread across his expression could have lead to that thought, however. He really would've adored it at any other time, but after a long night of dealing with Grillby's patrons, tolerating their vulgar behaviors. It was easy to tell that having a one on one conversation with one of them was the last thing he wanted to do that night. His lips had curled into a forced smile, arms hugging his velvety coat closer in a defensive embrace.

"And who might you be?"

The man before him took no time to stand, taking Mettaton's hand gently into his own. He flushed at the formalities. The skeleton's grasp was firm, yet cultivated and held a ghost-like softness to it. There was a small clink that sounded when the other's teeth tapped lightly against the metal of his skin. At least someone in this room behaved like a gentleman. Mettaton's eyes drifted over to Grillby, his gaze was accusing. Even when he had first arrived at the bar, his boss had never treated him with this assortment of respect. In fact, nobody had up until that point. The feeling of the small kiss upon his hand coming from a complete stranger, one in which seemed to be of high status, according to the clothing he wore at least... Was this how people were supposed to greet someone?

"Papyrus, and you must be the lovely Mettaton?" His voice rang out, still just as cheerful. Perhaps he was faking the kind tone that he held, but something gave him the incline that the skeleton before him was simply ignorant to his initial hostility.

It was surprising that the other had known his name, or, perhaps not when he thought about it. If Grillby insisted on him meeting Papyrus, rather than returning to his home as he should, it was likely that he was a frequent patron. If that was the case, of course he would know of him. In fact he could tell, even despite the fact that his boss was quite literately nothing but suit wearing fire, void of expression, was happy with their meeting. Something about his posture or the way he polished the counter top gave his emotion away where his face could not.

Nodding but not saying a thing, Mettaton retracted his hand from the grasp of Papyrus's and took a seat at the bar table. "I do hope Grillby has spoken nicely of me, I'd hate to have a bad reputation with such a, wonderful individual." A single leg swung up, folding over the other as Mettaton leaned over the table, his eyes focused on the skeletal sir before him, he too took a seat at the bar.

"I wouldn't trust Grillby's opinion, regardless," He grinned, or, at least continued to do so in his direction. Glancing over to the bartender, the grin became more of a smirk. "he's a little harsh with his statements, I don't think he likes me either." Grillby scoffed from behind the counter, and slid a freshly filled glass of booze to the skeleton as if telling him to shut up in the most subtle of ways. It was easy to hurt his pride, as Mettaton figured out quite easily the first few weeks of his employment. "What, nothing for your lovely singer?"

Another drink slid across to the robot shortly after such a statement. Mettaton was a tad bit surprised at the gesture, but happily sipped the bitter liquid. A golden elixir of clouded judgement and sin. It tasted just as disgusting as it's side effects were and out of politeness, he had to resist scrunching up his nose at the repulsive flavor. Sipping turned rather quickly into gulping down the vile liquid whenever he noticed Papyrus' eyes drift from him. He honestly regretted not protesting the offer of alcohol. Mettaton wasn't a drinker in any sense, thus beer was out of the question if he wasn't trying to be nice. It was admittedly odd, for someone who worked back to back within a bar.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you around here before, Grillby has mentioned that your a frequent here?" He laughed at Mettaton's statement.

"My brother is, I just tag along for the drinks and delightful food!" His brother... Mettaton remembered his boss talking about the older of the two- less than fondly. The way he smoked, Grillby almost never stopped about how large his tab would become on a weekly basis. If not for the fact that the older brother, Sans' payments changed when Mettaton received his money for the nights he worked, he may have found the lesser complaints to be just as humorous as the smoking complaints. "And the stunning singing,"

A slight flushed expression overcame Mettaton, of course Papyrus had heard him sing, but he hadn't been expecting the compliment. He hadn't been expecting any of this really, though the small time of relaxation was nice. His eyes wandered to the clock, nestled further into the corner. Well planned for a bar, seeing as the intoxicated idiots that went there seldom searched it out. The time made his thoughts drift slowly to his cousin, Blooky, who was surely waiting eagerly for his return. His expression turned to a slight grimace, staring into what remained of the amber liquid in the cup before him.

"I'm sorry Papyrus but I must really be going." Mettaton expected some protest from Grillby, who instead still ignored them both. Papyrus on the other hand nodded, smiling softly as the robot moved himself from the bar stool, still clutching his coat. "It was absolutely wonderful to make your acquaintance Mettaton!" the cheerfulness of the other was still jarring.

"The pleasure was mine darling, the both of you have wonderful nights.."


End file.
